


and then Percival and Lancelot share a totally radical fistbump*

by LittleMusing



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMusing/pseuds/LittleMusing
Summary: *does not actually happen but I love this line and I wanted to use it. Both Percival and Lancelot have some feelings.





	and then Percival and Lancelot share a totally radical fistbump*

There was a time Lancelot thought he was in love with Vane. He'd heard from other kids that if you bothered someone a lot - Vane says he did, but he can't really remember most of that now - you "Like liked" them. They kissed, just once, during some celebration or other, during the time of the Black Dragons.  
  
"That was weird," Vane blushed like they were kids again, but his demeanor was all indignant and somewhat teasing. "You took my first kiss, Lancey! You owe me a dinner!"  
  
He laughed and he did let his friend have a lavish meal on him. He also agreed that this wasn't it. They'd throw themselves into danger for each other, but that was just so they knew they could trust the other half to cover for them. Much like with two others.  
  
Lancelot sobers up. Percival and Siegfried. It would be nice if either of them stopped by regularly, but they are free agents now, relatively speaking. His position would not allow him to take time out so easily. Rather, in theory, he could, but that would be an abuse of power. Lancelot has to be an example to the rest, and as one of common background, even more so. Whispers of discontented aristocrats find their way to him at times, and he of all people cannot waver.  
  
He looks at the report on his desk, leafing through the pages for the umpteenth time. It's a typical status update: monsters stalking the outskirts, some concerns about allegedly shady dealings that he'd have to investigate, suggestions from the citizenry about knight duties, and last but not least, Vane's additions. He smiles to himself, as while his notes are neat, Lancelot can tell where he gets distracted and doodles stick figures in the margins.  
  
He stretches, wondering how best to tackle the checklist. The monsters are not a major concern, but he should swing by for moral support. He needs more testimonies about the dealings before he can decide if it needs more manpower. The suggestions he'll tackle at the same time; being familiar with the townsfolk should help the knights seem more humble and trustworthy. He nods to himself, settling on the plan. He writes down a note should Vane swing by when he's not in.  
  
He moves on to review time sheets for patrols, not to forget lesson plans for the recruits. A knight should be well rounded to be able to serve his kingdom well, and their growth stage is extremely important. Lancelot would quite like to be out there on the field himself, but this role has left him rather burdened with paperwork. In a sense, he envies Vane, having his own group of recruits to train with while he gets the bureaucracy done. A necessary evil that even he gets tired of, unfortunately.  
  
He can feel himself going mad. With impeccable timing, there's a knock on the door. He breathes a sigh of relief for the distraction. It must be Vane bearing tea, his friend always had this uncanny knowledge of when Lancelot was absolutely wearing thin. "Vane!" he says, full of expectation, opening the door.  
  
It's not Vane.  
  
"Fortunately, no."  
  
"Buh -"  
  
"You haven't changed at all, Lancelot. What is that mess you're trying to hide there?"  
  
Lancelot instinctively straightens his back and coughs. "Well, well, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" their gazes meet steadily. "... Percival."  
  
"We had some missions in the area. Are you going to let me in?"  
  
Lancelot wordlessly steps aside and returns to the safety of his desk. Percival looks around with a critical eye. He's kept the office mostly the same from back in the day, except more lived in.  
  
_Messy_ , supplies the Percival voice in his head.  
  
There are distinct Vane touches in the decor too. Lancelot is fond of the seamless blend of old and new, while a niggling insecurity in his head whispers that he'd never be rid of Siegfried's shadow. He shakes his head.  
  
"You're not just here to pass judgment on my office, are you?"  
  
My office. The words are a little heavier with Percival. They always have had a certain rivalry, one Percival might've dropped on his departure from Feendrache. When they got reunited under the Grandcypher crew, that something got rekindled. Percival hasn't seated himself, Lancelot notes. Well, neither has he.   
  
"Spar with me," Percival says, no, _commands_.  
  
Lancelot can only smirk. "I was looking for an excuse to leave. Thank you, Percival," he drawls.  
  
Percival harrumphs, but he too has that glint in his eye. Lancelot keeps the note meant for tomorrow and writes another one for Vane, informing him of this impromptu match. He'll be expecting the crew to drop by too. He realizes how much he's been wanting some fresh air after being stuck with pages and pages of documents. This sparring was just made better by the Lord of Flames' offering first.  
  
"Let me warn you, training young recruits forces you to be creative."  
  
"You'd be surprised at how much you learn from common criminals."  
  
When they were just a few years younger, they would've jabbed their elbows into each other, but decorum has to be kept now. They tread a familiar path to the training grounds, mostly empty save for some new recruits. Lancelot notes Chickadee isn't here - Vane has been preening about how fast his charges have been growing and he's curious about them now that it's been some time since the recruitment.  
  
"Look sharp, Lancelot, I don't want this to be too easy."  
  
He snaps back into attention and scoffs. He readies his twin blades. "I don't need 100% to beat you."  
  
Percival charges forward, his longsword affording him a longer reach. Lancelot parries the initial strike with ease, the sound ringing across the field. _This is nostalgic_ , he thinks, as their blades clash. He pushes back, hoping to unbalance his opponent even slightly, not surprised when it doesn't work. The pent up frustrations over the paperwork means Lancelot starts unleashing a flurry of ice-enhanced attacks early, only for Percival to turn them to mist with a sweep of his sword.  
  
They look very much like they're dancing, with Percival's wider arcs contrasting Lancelot's quick sidesteps. He tries to take advantage of his second blade to strike at openings, but of course, Percival can counter him like he does in return. The ground around them gets alternatively scorched and frozen, chips of ice giving way to embers. As the duel goes on, their armour gets progressively matted from the opposing magic, sweat gracing their brows and neither party willing to cede. Lancelot missed this, truly. Vane can give him quite the match, but there's something different with Percival, their clashing, yet complementary, powers aside.  
  
They break apart after the long interplay, breathing ragged from the exercise. In the silence, someone starts clapping, followed by others. Vane, Gran, Lyria, Siegfried, even team Chickadee are there. The few recruits from earlier have swelled into a crowd of other Order soldiers and some administrative staff. Lancelot feels slightly abashed, having effectively absconded from his post. He waves a little shyly, because of that.   
  
"You guys were so cool!" Vane speaks out first, whooping in excitement. "It's like..."   
  
The words trail from Vane's mouth. _Like the old days_ , he means to say, looking at Siegfried.   
  
Most of the other on-lookers are left slack-jawed as the familiar faces walk up to them, talking about going out for dinner, asking about techniques, some snarky exchanges between Vane and Percival. Lancelot, meanwhile, is hyperfocused on Percival, the chatter merely white noise. The man notices his gaze, nods slightly, and looks away, expression unreadable.   
  
"Lancey, Lancey to earth, come on, the crew are in town so let's go eat at that place we were talking about!"   
  
"A-ah, right. I'll go refresh myself first, I'll see you later."   
  
He leaves quickly, wind taken from his sails. When he removes his armour he finds his hands shaking slightly, from the adrenaline, he presumes. He hadn't noticed how much time passed _. I'll drop the armour off to polish before I  join the crew_ , he thinks, in a slight daze.   
  
Lancelot quite likes being in armour, though the workout means it's rather relieving to be in lighter clothes too. He apologizes to the polisher, who simply shakes his head and waves him off with a smile. It's late evening and conversation is already in full swing by the time he arrives at the restaurant, Lyria waving enthusiastically when she spots him. He relaxes, smiles, waves back. He takes his place beside Lyria, and listens to her as she updates him on their adventures. It's a cozy time, and Lancelot would love to have more of these down times. This was why he wanted to serve his kingdom, so that the people and he too, can simply sit down, and enjoy conversation with friends and loved ones.

At some point during the dinner, Percival leaves the table. He'd been quiet throughout, so Lancelot is compelled to go after  him. He's slightly distracted by how dressed down he looks, hair up and exposing his chest. Lancelot coughs to get the other man's attention.

"What."

"Well, aren't you a surly one."

He doesn't respond to the jab, instead choosing to lean against the wall of the restaurant. Lancelot can hear uproarious laughter bursting out of the venue, not entirely from the crew seated inside.

"You've done good in the kingdom," Percival finally says, not meeting Lancelot's eyes, his gaze fixed on some distant star in the sky.

"Thanks," is all he can answer with, taken aback by the sudden praise. He follows Percival's line of sight, taking in the sight of the night sky. The other man exhales loudly, as though expelling some great weight within him.

 "You don't have to listen to me," his voice is low. "But earlier, the sparring. I missed that. Slightly."

Lancelot chuckles at the backpedalling. That's the Percival he knows. "Me too," he replies, sincerely.

"... Lancelot."

"Yeah?" The moment seems tense.

Percival opens his mouth, when the rest of the crew spill out of the doorway. "Did we interrupt something?" Vane asks, innocently, spotting them.

"... stupid mongrel," he bites out.

"Percy! You went the whole day without calling me that, how could you?!" Vane fake wails, throwing his entire weight onto Percival.

"Get off me!"

"Nuh-uh, not until you say sorry!"

The duo fall into the bickering they all know. Lancelot wonders what he was hoping Percival would say, realizing his heart is racing slightly. He laughs with the rest of them, putting the moment into the back of his head. He doesn't think he's ready yet, not now. He doesn't want their rivalry/friendship to change yet. He'll face it another day.

The crew leaving is always a bittersweet occasion. The deck is bustling as they prepare to take off. Percival hasn't boarded yet. "You better get on, or they'll leave without you," Lancelot jokes.

He rolls his eyes, but smirks nevertheless. "When we come back next, the place better not be in shambles."

"But you'll come running, right?" the words escape Lancelot's lips without much thought.

Unexpectedly, Percival guffaws. "Make sure I don't have to," he says, with that signature smug look. "Later, Lancelot."

He gives one small wave as Percival goes up the gangplank. Soon enough, the Grandcypher is off again, to another destination over yonder.

"They're off again," Vane echoes his thoughts.

"Yeah. Come on, we have work to do."

"Right on!"

Back to normal, back to throwing himself wholeheartedly for the betterment of the kingdom. Maybe Percival will say what was on his mind the next time he comes, and Lancelot will be ready for it.

_Till next time, my friend._

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this, for like what, 6 hours straight? To my percilan friends, and to you too, dear reader. Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> assignments, what assignments,


End file.
